


The Wait is Worth It

by MissTeaVee



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: M/M, Screw it I'm joining the Mandorin writing bandwagon, not sure about the rating, some making out and innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22077439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTeaVee/pseuds/MissTeaVee
Summary: Corin is adapting to domestic Mandalorian life pretty well, all in all.Stolen kisses in private.
Relationships: The Mandalorian/Corin (LadyIrina)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 421





	The Wait is Worth It

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Family and Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758992) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 



> Aight, jumping on the Mandorin wagon. Set in some future where Corin and Din have their shit together somewhat and Corin’s at the ‘acceptance’ stage of knowing that Din’s trying to draw him into the Tribe. He hasn’t put on the helmet yet tho. He wants to be a fighter worthy of the mystique first. No one’s rushing him except the shippers who want to see him and Din kedalbe kiss already.  
> Mandalorians don’t care too much about bloodlines, chosen family (Including adopted foundlings, adopted siblings, and your adopted siblings’ adopted children) are all as close as your actual biological relatives in the clan. If you have any actual bio relatives.  
> The Kid is named Kibo in this fic because I read a different story where Baby had that name and I thought it was cute.

People were staring. Not that Corin could blame them though. If he’d been on the outside of this little gathering, he would’ve been staring too.

How often were four Mandalorians seen sitting at the same table, after all? Corin hummed happily, not minding being the center of attention for once. (Well, not really _the_ center of attention himself, though he was aware a few people were looking at him; his Mando-styled armor and bare face, they were wondering how the hell he fit into the equation. He knew how he fit, so that’s all he cared about.) He was leaned back in his chair, watching in amusement as the youngest Mandalorian was being gently hazed.

It was a big day for 19 year old Jiiv Vizla; Paz’s eldest Foundling was no longer in the odd between-stage of Mandalorian life that started at 14 when one was now fully committed to the Creed and assigned certain adult responsibilities, but still considered too young to answer a call to arms. Good luck had favored the boy when he hit his birthday; Din and Corin had come across information about stolen Mandalorian artefacts that were being sent off to a black market auction and called it in to the Covert while Jiiv’s first mission outside was being decided on. That the boy could join those sent to recover the artefacts had been perfect.

And here they were after a successful mission. Jiiv had performed his duty admirably, and if he’d slipped up here and there, that was what the rest of the team was for. No mission ever went perfectly according to plan, but they’d been able to plan for and work around any slips. Of the artefacts, Jiiv had been told by the tribe leader that he could take a piece for himself should the rest of the group feel he contributed well to the mission.

He was turning a flute over in his hands now; proof that he’d executed his coming-of-age with prowess. Corin thought it was an interesting choice; there’d been a set of beautiful damascus vibroblades, etched with the signets of a clan now gone. There was jewelery from a different time, Mandalore-mined opal in beskar clasps; more vibrant than silver and diamonds. Rare pieces of history, all the more precious because they’d been stolen from former Imperials; Trophies that were all intended for the forgo to be compressed to nothing but metal ingots for the Empire’s war machine, that had somehow survived the cruel years.

The flute was Beskar, he could see that, though he wondered why an instrument of all things would be made of such precious material.

Paz was too busy fawning proudly over his child to explain the importance of the instrument to Corin, and Rusaan was too busy coaxing Jiiv to imbibe ‘just one more’ drink, so it fell to Din to explain.

“The Bes’bev was... It’s hard to explain, it can make some very gentle music, and it can be loud and booming,” he said, gesturing with both hands. “Supposedly way back in the day, they’d use Bes’bevs like war horns, even. And it can be used as a weapon, the end of it is sharpened and it’s shaped to be easy to grip. A really special aspect is that they were designed to fit up under our helmets. Finding one is… well, when the Empire took everything, and we needed metal for armor, or weapons… they’re often important family artifacts, but we needed that metal. It’s a precious thing.”

“A bit of culture no one’s seen in too long?” Corin asked. Din nodded, shifting in such a way that Corin knew he was rolling his eyes. He glanced over to see Rusaan holding a tall glass with a straw up to Jiiv, who was so eagerly overwhelmed with the success of his first mission and being allowed to pick such a rare prize that he was not thinking plainly, accepted the glass and brought the straw up under the rim of his helmet to drink it.

That was five drinks now. Oh. _Dear._

Corin chuckled, looking at his own ale, of which he’d only drunk half so far. Even Din had forgone the usual mystique to sip at something, though by the smell of it, it had very little if any alcohol in it. Just as well; someone was going to have to fly the Razorcrest.

“That kid’s gonna hate himself tomorrow,” He commented sympathetically. Din chuckled.

“Best they learn young how much it sucks to have a hangover and throw up in your helmet. It teaches moderation. I’m… pretty sure that’s the philosophy.”

Corin burst out snickering, nudging his elbow into Din. “Did you learn that the hard way, _Djarin_?” He asked, dropping his voice just a little and leaning in conspiratorially. Din leaned back, one hand coming up up grasp his other wrist. Corin couldn’t help it; his grin widened a little more. He knew that tell by now.

“No comment,” Din finally managed. Corin turned back to where Jiiv was being plied with drink by his clan mate, and mused that having your first experience getting well and truly plastered around trusted people was probably better than being a member of highly visible and orthodox Mandalorian tribe and getting drunk on your own where some curious soul might figure a little peek beneath your mask couldn’t hurt…

He gave a small shudder at the thought. In the last couple of years he’d started favoring a helmet that left his face bare and a cloth mask, and though he took it off around friends or when eating, it stayed on quite a bit. He wasn’t quite ready to make the step to a _Buyce_ , and take the title of Mandalorian yet, but he’d had plenty of time to become intimate with the culture.

… And _maybe_ one of the people. But that was his business. Seeing that the meddlesome Paz was still distracted by his son, Corin leaned in towards Din to see how close he could get. Sometimes he grimaced at how much time had been wasted because the damn Mandalorian was _shy_ , and because Corin himself hadn’t understood the subtext. Okay, maybe a bit of meddling in the form of a ‘hey FYI, you know we give armor as gifts to romantic prospects, right?’ had been appreciated. But he was not saying that out loud, ever. The lack of understanding had maybe been bad luck, but it wasn’t that bad, not in the grand scheme of things.

Besides, all in all, Corin had to say his luck’d been pretty damn good since he came across a Mandalorian and his Child. 

Din glanced over when Corin’s elbow brushed against his, but he didn’t hinder the touch either. Pleased, Corin gently knocked his knuckles against Din’s vambrace, but didn’t try for more. Not in a crowded bar.

* * *

As it turned out, the bes’bev was the prize everyone was fascinated by. Corin leaned up on the wall, watching with a smile as one of the older adults showed Jiiv how to play the instrument, demonstrating the finger motions. The music produced by the ancestral instrument was beautiful and haunting as it echoed through the halls of the Covert. Less so when Jiiv did his best to play it.

“You’ll get it with practice,” Said Savii brightly, once she and everyone else were done cringing at the screech that’d been produced.

“Just… maybe don’t practice when people are sleeping…” Muttered Rusaan, considerably distressed. Corin giggled to himself, shaking the ringing out of his ears.

Someone walks up beside him and he turns to grin at Din and the boy sitting on his partner’s shoulder. “So what did we miss?”

“Jiiv’s music lessons,” Corin said solemnly. “Hey Ad’ika, how are you?”

“Trust me, we didn’t miss the… music,” Din grumbled.

The little one giggled in delight, nuzzling his nose with Corin’s. His little hand gestured _Good. Learned knives today_ at Corin. In the last year and a half, the little guy had hit some kind of growth spurt, his stubby limbs lengthening enough that he was now a right terror, able to climb just about anything. If he couldn’t climb it, he could jump it with his powers.

He still didn’t talk much, though a few words escaped his mouth sometimes, but he understood at least as much as a four year old, and his sign language let him communicate his needs, which was something of a relief. He was still small, and his development was all over the place compared to most species; he’d proven to have clear memory back to some time before Din first Found him.

(Din had fallen quiet when they’d learned that, and radiated guilt for some time. The little guy, bless him, and just snuggled against his father’s leg and stared at him with those big forgiving eyes.)

“Yeah? Are you learning to tell the sharp end from the grip end?” Corin asked playfully. The kid wrinkled his nose thoughtfully. The Tribe’s lore master had commented that the kid could probably send fully formed telepathic thoughts at people, but the problem was no one in the Covert had the sensitivity or training to receive such messages.

“Cut meat,” The kid said finally. Out loud! Corin rewarded him with a playful toss into the air, earning a giggle. Then, once securely held in Corin’s arms again, the kid signed a little more. _I come with next trip?_

“Yes you will, if you want to, Kibo,” Din told the boy. The green ears shot up and the Mandalorian earned a bright, sunny smile for it. “But tonight we’re sleeping at the Covert, so you can stay with the other foundlings if you want.”

Corin blinked. They were spending the night? News to him. Kibo thought about it, looking to see a few of the other foundlings clustered around Jiiv, clamoring to see the bes’bev. He babbled to himself, then looked to his father. _Sleep with others. Tomorrow night, sleep with Buir._

“Sounds good, Kibo,” Said Din, and Corin though he sounded pleased.

Kibo squirmed until Corin put him down, and then he trotted over to demand his share of attention from the newly minted adult Mandalorian. Corin watched him fondly, and nearly jumped out of his skin at a pat on the small of his back. He turned his head to give Din a disbelieving look, but all he got was a slight tilt of the helmet in return before Din turned to walk down the hall.

Then Corin realized why they were staying one more night in the Covert and blushed. There was no room on the Razorcrest for two adults to spend time together alone when they had a kid to look out for. But in the Covert, where the little ones would collapse in a heap to sleep half the time… well…

“Oh I’m going to make fun of you for being too subtle again,” He muttered to himself, not at all displeased. He was going to hold Din to whatever plan the other man had. Possibly also to the bed.

* * *

In the years since Corin joined up with Din and Kibo, the Mandalorian Covert had relocated twice; Presently, it was located in the ruins of an ancient city on a near-empty world. Very pleasant; sunlight and plants, and access to the outdoors in some places, though the Mandalorians were always mindful not to leave a trace that could be detected by a passing ship. Corin was sitting on a rock wall, watching his ~~friend lover~~ partner stalking a small furry creature. He’d dared Din to try and catch it by hand, but was surprised when the challenge was accepted. Corin leaned on his knees, thinking Din might get his reward at this rate; he’d patiently moved himself within about six feet of the funny little critter. Just a few more steps…

The critter squeaked and darted into a crack in the wall. Din sighed regretfully while Corin laughed at him. “Kibo’s a much better hunter than you. He should be training you!”

“Come down here and say that to my face,” Din retorted. Corin laughed, hopping down, and he did, in fact, repeat it right up in front of Din’s mask.

“You used to be quiet,” Din accused without heat.

“It’s your fault, you decided that I was going to be a Mandalorian like you, and that meant I had to learn to sass in the face of certain death,” Corin said, stepping in closer and tossing his arms over Din’s shoulders. He was gratified when hands automatically went to his hips. Din’s next sigh was soft; fond.

“You got me there…”

“I can’t help but notice you gave us an extra night here for some reason,” Corin said idly, as if he couldn’t feel the thumbs kneading at his shirt. “Or that you somehow convinced Kibo to sleep somewhere other than our shared room tonight.”

“Interesting observation,” Din’s helmet tilted ever so slightly.

“It’s almost like you want me to yourself for a few hours,” Corin slide his arms back, until his hands were resting over the Mandalorian’s chestplate, fingers lightly hooking over the top edge of it.

“Maybe.”

“But you haven’t actually told me about any plans, so I can’t draw any conclusions…” Corin hummed, looking up at the sky dramatically as if asking for patience.

“Corin…” One hand left his hip, and the ex-stormtrooper lowered his gaze to see Din’s hand pushing up the rim of the beskar helmet. It was an act that Corin knew blinded the Mandalorian; pushing the visor away from his eyes.

He also knew what the unspoken request was and he leaned in to catch the lips that he could now see, his hands going up to Din’s helmet to hold it there so their mouths could press together. Din’s hand settled on his chestplate instead, and Corin pushed into the touch with a pleased hum.

It felt scandalous, to hold Din’s helmet just a little too high and kiss him like this. It wasn’t against the Creed; at this point they were considered family and Din could go unmasked around him and Kibo if he wished it. He had once or twice, but he still baulked shyly at the idea most of the time, and Corin relished the rare moments that his Intended was comfortable enough to share like this. He didn’t try to lift Din’s helmet away, just held it where Din wanted it.

He parted his lips a hair and was gratified when Din responded in kind. He deepened the kiss, making a happy noise when he was pulled closer, Din’s gloved fingers slipping into his waistband-

And voices had them separating, Corin gently sliding Din’s helmet back into place. They both turned their heads towards the tunnel that led down into the Covert. Whomever was coming out clearly wasn’t aware that there two of them were out here, flirting back and forth...

Satrina and his husband appeared out of the darkness, and paused to see Din and Corin standing there watching them. “Oh.” said Satrina.

Corin bit down a sassy _hey we claimed this makeout spot first_ and just grinned awkwardly at the two men. “Good afternoon.”

“Looks like it,” said Korm’rk, the tribe’s doctor, dryly. “Weather’s nice.”

Luckily, Satrina decided to speak up before things got really awkward. “We’re heading for the target range.”

“Good timing,” said Din, sounding just a bit breathless. Corin bit his tongue to keep from looking smug. “We were just heading in.”

“We won’t keep you then,” Said Satrina, shoulders relaxing a little. Corin stepped past the couple into the tunnel, waiting for Din to follow him. Once the other two Mandalorians were out of earshot, and still walking, he started laughing.

Din just shook his head.

**Author's Note:**

> While Din and Corin arn't officially Married, it's pretty obvious to everyone that they're headed that way. They're functionally common-law married in the eyes of the Covert even though neither's said anything's official.


End file.
